


Maybe the World Doesn't Have to End

by sleepykit



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen, Possession
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-15 11:49:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4605591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepykit/pseuds/sleepykit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Azazel had other plans for Sam Winchester? What if the Apocalypse started early? Welcome to an alternate universe where nothing went quite as planned, for all involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe the World Doesn't Have to End

Scalding hot water cascaded down my skin, and for a brief moment that evening I felt warm against the chill of the house. It eased the stabbing pain in my shoulder and I slouched against the heat, watching the world around me fog up. In a stark contrast to the rest of my hectic day, the soothing shower relaxed me. It gave me a moment to just breathe again.

The tiny bathroom at my parents’ house was barely large enough to house one person comfortably but it was a familiar setting. I could navigate the drawers in the dark, knew exactly where to find soap and shampoo. My husband’s lilac-scented candle burned slowly on the counter, and the flickering flame cast the whole room in shifting shadows. I watched the light dance through a shower curtain with a smile.

Just as I was reaching for conditioner, I heard the dull thump of something falling onto the rug on the floor. No surprise there – with four cats and doors with faulty locks, the odds of something being knocked off a counter were high. Usually, my little asshole ninja cats only did their dirty work when I couldn’t do anything about it, like say in the middle of a shower. With a groan – because the lit candle could always be next – I pulled back the curtain an inch and peeked casually into the rest of the diminutive bathroom.

Instead of a fussy cat perched on a laminate counter, there was an elderly man standing by the door, a black gun in his hands.

“Don’t move and don’t make a sound, or I will shoot,” he said quietly, looking directly at me with dark, unreadable eyes. “Understand?”

I nodded past a knot in my throat as fear turned my stomach. An embarrassed, angry blush crept up my cheeks and I let go of the shower curtain, which fell back with a soft whoosh. The man was barely my height, with graying hair and a wrinkled face. Beyond that, he wore a black priest’s habit and collar.

“Good.”

A flash of bright, yellow light briefly illuminated the bathroom. I blinked stars out of my eyes and waited for vision to return against the brightness. There was momentary rustling, followed by the sound of wings folding. Even I stood there, water falling across my shoulder, I heard someone else speak.

“We don’t have much time, Damien,” said the newcomer.

“I don’t like this, Cass,” whispered the priest.

“Our desires don’t figure into this. Let’s begin.”

I heard the priest begin to chant in a language that sounded musical and melodious. I’d never heard anything like it before, and yet it felt familiar somehow. As he spoke, beautiful glowing symbols filled the walls and floor of the bathroom. They slid down the sides of the tub and crawled up the tiled wall, slithered like snakes into corners. A few even clambered onto the ceiling.

_Magic,_ I thought with both terror and wonder, hands shaking with fear. The symbols formed patterns that reminded me of rituals in my father’s ancient books; I didn’t know any of them, and certainly not this one, and yet even I could see a resemblance.

The priest stopped chanting and took a deep breath. “Just relax, Anna. This won’t hurt.”

“What’re you doing? Who are you? What do you want from me?” I whispered, voice breaking.

Unbidden, tears rolled down my cheeks. I wiped at them with a wet hand, sniffing. The curtain provided absolutely no protection against either magic or weapons, and though the men were both making plenty of noise, neither husband nor parents seemed to hear them.

“This is an ancient binding ritual,” Damien said hurriedly. “We don’t have time to explain right now, but for your own safety, don’t mention this to _anyone_. If someone finds out what happened here tonight, your life and the lives of your loved ones will be in danger. Keep your mouth shut.”

“Please,” I begged. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“It’s not about right or wrong, child. This isn’t a punishment.”

The symbols formed a circle around my feet and began pulsing all the colors of the rainbow. I shielded my eyes against their shine and felt a warm, thick breeze rush through me. More rustling wings and then the glow vanished; the room plunged into darkness and silence. The candle went out. My attackers disappeared.

For another minute I just stood there, shaking, waiting for something to happen. When nothing moved, I reached over and turned off the shower. Then, I pulled back the shower curtain to reveal an empty bathroom in the dark, a little chilly but otherwise familiar. Grabbing a towel, I wrapped it around myself and stumbled out of the tub.

When I walked into the bedroom, Derek looked up at me and scrunched up his face. He was sitting in front of his computer, dressed in pajamas, half leaning back in an ancient office chair that had seen better days. His over-sized headphones somehow managed to mess up his close-cropped sandy hair, which looked like it was about ready for its regular trim.

“Are you all right?” he asked hesitantly as I came in. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost or something.”

“Or something,” I mumbled. “Did you hear anything strange while I was showering?”

“No.” He shook his head.

“I thought I heard voices, I guess.”

“Like someone outside or your parents?”

I shrugged and looked down at myself, realizing belatedly that I’d forgotten both my clothes and bathrobe in the bathroom. My gigantic blue towel was still wrapped around me and I was dripping water onto the carpeted floor. 

“Don’t know,” I lied. “Must’ve been my imagination.”

“Could be the neighbors or something,” Derek lamented with a shrug. “The walls around here aren’t exactly thick or anything.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Let me go grab my stuff and then the bathroom’s all yours.”

“Thanks, hon.”

My husband turned back to his computer screens; from where I stood I could easily tell that he was playing World of Warcraft while also watching someone’s Twitch channel. Some poor soul was trying out Cave Story for the first time, with terrible luck and horrendous aim. I backed up a few steps and hurried out of the room like an idiot.


End file.
